The greenhouse was empty.
Yue waited in the far corner, behind rows of moonblossom and feverfrond. The air smelled of damp soil and old roots, the kind of smell that made most students uncomfortable. Not Yue. She liked things that grew wild under pressure.
She had left a single note in Sofia's study journal.
We need to talk. Alone. Greenhouse. Before lunch.
No signature. No threats. But Yue didn't need to threaten. Not when people knew how sharp her silences could be.
She heard the door open behind her. The click of polished shoes. The faint shift of air.
Sofia had arrived.
"Bold," the other girl said, voice smooth. "You could've just sent a formal request through faculty channels."
Yue didn't turn. She plucked a dying leaf from a vine. "Then Bernard would've come instead. And I don't like that man's perfume."
Sofia's shoes clicked slowly as she approached, each step measured. "So you are watching me."
"Only because you made yourself interesting," Yue said, now turning.
Sofia stood ten feet away, wrapped in perfection, curls pinned, ribbon precise, uniform pristine. But there was a new coldness behind the emerald eyes. The kind that wasn't taught in etiquette classes.
"You've been busy," Yue said simply.
"I study. I excel. That's not new."
"You've also been wandering into places only staff are supposed to go."
Sofia tilted her head. "I'm not the only one with unusual access."
Yue's expression didn't change. "I have clearance. You have charm. There's a difference."
A pause.
Then Sofia's smile flickered. Just slightly. "If you came to intimidate me, Assistant Yue, I'm afraid you're wasting your time."
Yue stepped forward. "I don't do intimidation. I ask questions."
"And if I don't answer?"
"Then I'll ask them louder."
For the first time, a faint crack appeared in Sofia's composure. "You think I'm afraid of you?"
"No," Yue said. "I think you shouldn't be. That's the problem."
She walked past Sofia slowly, deliberately brushing shoulders. "I think you've been promised something. Power, probably. Recognition. Escape from your perfectly groomed cage."
Sofia didn't answer. But she didn't move either.
Yue stopped by a patch of red nightgrass and crouched, as if the conversation didn't matter.
"Let me guess," she said, gently inspecting a bloom. "Bernard told you the Tower doesn't understand real magic. Or something outlandish, perhaps that you were chosen."
Silence.
Then Sofia whispered, "Maybe I was."
Yue didn't look up. "And what does being chosen require? A little betrayal? A few dead names in the dark?"
Sofia's voice was soft now, dangerous. "What I want doesn't concern you."
"But Haku does," Yue said, rising. "You've been circling him. Watching him. Studying his habits. That does concern me."
"You're very protective," Sofia said.
Yue smiled. Not kindly. "You have no idea."
She stepped in close, now only inches between them. Her voice dropped.
"I've killed for less than what you're planning."
Sofia blinked.
Then, for a split second, her expression broke. Not with fear, but with something worse.
Recognition.
Like she knew.
Yue saw it. And something ancient stirred behind her eyes. Her hand twitched.
But she didn't move. She just stared. Cold. Unblinking.
Sofia recovered fast. "You think you're stronger than me?"
"No," Yue said. "I think I'm stronger than everyone. And I still wouldn't touch Haku without permission."
That landed like thunder.
Sofia's jaw tightened. "He's not who you think he is."
"No," Yue replied. "But I am."
Sofia looked at her for a long time.
Then, slowly, her mask settled back into place. "You're wasting your loyalty. You don't know what's coming."
"Neither do you," Yue whispered. "You think you're walking toward freedom. But all I see is a leash dressed in gold."
Sofia stepped back.
"I'll consider your warning," she said.
Yue nodded once.
Sofia turned to leave, but as she reached the door, she paused.
"I was chosen," she said without looking back. "And soon, everyone will know why."
Then she was gone.
Yue stood alone in the greenhouse, staring at the patch of flowers she'd forgotten to water.
They were dying.
And something told her they weren't the only ones.
Sofia felt ashamed and insulted, that she was afraid, even if it was for a short moment.
'I will make you regret looking down on me.'
Later that evening
A room that didn't exist on any school map.
Deep beneath the east wing, past sealed corridors and illusioned doorways, it breathed with magic that had long been buried, and long since banned.
The air was thick with silence, the kind that clung to your lungs like fog. The stone walls were etched with sigils that flickered faintly in the candlelight, and at the center of it all, the ritual circle waited, intricate, carved into black glass, older than the Tower itself.
Sofia stood at its edge.
She wore a cloak of midnight silk, hood drawn back. Her hands were bare, trembling slightly as she held the ceremonial blade. Bernard stood across from her, patient as always, eyes shadowed beneath his brow.
"You remember the words?" he asked.
"I've memorized them."
"Good. Then speak them. Slowly."
She took a breath. The first word left her lips like a secret cracking open.
It wasn't just language. It was a key, and the circle reacted. A low hum began to fill the room, and the runes flared dimly, red and sharp-edged.
Sofia's voice didn't shake. She had trained for this. Not in her classes. Not with her tutors. This was something darker, something she had practiced in the dead hours of the night, when silence became safety.
Bernard handed her the vial. It was warm.
"Only three drops," he reminded her. "Anymore, and the seal fractures."
Sofia unstoppered the vial, tilted it, and let three perfect drops of blood fall into the carved center of the circle.
The ground shivered.
The air tasted of copper and thunder. A ripple spread from the blood like oil on water, and suddenly the shadows weren't just shadows anymore. They watched.
Bernard smiled thinly. "Now the binding."
Sofia knelt at the edge of the circle. Her hands moved with slow precision, drawing the old gestures, loops, reversals, the symbol of the scorpion whose tail struck its own skull.
The moment her finger completed the last motion, the circle ignited.
It didn't burn with fire. It burned with memory.
Whispers filled the chamber, not words, but impressions. A girl screaming in a garden. A king bleeding in snow. Cities crumbling beneath thunderous wings.
Sofia gasped but held steady.
A thin stream of black smoke rose from the center of the circle, and it spoke, in a voice both male and female, old and newborn.
"You who seek what was hidden.You who bleed to remember.What do you offer?"
Sofia swallowed. "My name."
Bernard's head snapped toward her. "No...."
But it was too late.
The smoke twisted around her throat like a collar.
"Accepted."
The pain hit like iron. Her spine arched, her mouth opened in a silent scream. Her reflection shattered on the polished floor, a dozen fractured Sofias staring up in silent horror.
Then it stopped.
She collapsed to her knees, panting.
Bernard rushed to her. "That wasn't part of the script. Why would you?"
"I wanted them to know I'm serious," she said through gritted teeth. Her voice was raw, cracked.
He stared at her. "You've marked yourself. The pact is permanent now."
"I know."
"Sofia"
She stood, eyes burning. "Don't call me that."
He paused.
"What should I call you?"
She looked toward the shadows at the edge of the circle. They were already starting to vanish, folding inward like breath returning to lungs.
"When the time comes," she whispered, "they'll call me Deliverance."
Bernard studied her for a long time.
Then, without another word, he reached into his coat and pulled out a folded letter. He handed it to her.
"From the Archive. Another piece of the map."
Sofia took it, still breathing hard. She didn't thank him.
She didn't even look at him.
Meanwhile...
Alex watched from the rooftop opposite the east wing.
He couldn't see the ritual. But he'd seen Sofia slip past two locked corridors and a warded stairwell without flinching.
She hadn't used a key.
Just a name.
Yue was beside him, arms crossed, gaze focused like a blade. "Something's wrong with her magic," she said.
"Dark?"
"No," Yue muttered. "Empty. Like something ate the middle and left the shell walking."
Alex frowned. "Think she's possessed?"
"No," Yue said. "Worse. I think she asked it in."